Some years ago I worked in a high-end department store in West London. It was a great experience working in an environment where the customers served never seemed to blink an eyelid at the prices of items sold. The majority of the customers were famous – whether they were politicians, Hollywood actors and actresses as well as the British ones’, and then of course the musicians – whether pop stars, opera stars or divas’. But there was one lady I served, Faith Bandler, an Aboriginal activist who campaigned against the plights and sufferings of Aboriginals in Australia. She did not tell me who she was as I recognised her from a documentary I’d seen on TV.

Ms Bandler successfully campaigned for the indigenous Australians to be recognised as full citizens and to be given rights under the constitution. She was totally humble, warm, intelligent, passionate and possessed a quick and easy laugh She was also curious about the black community in London. I am really happy that she will be given a full state funeral by her country. May her soul rest in perfect peace.

2014 was sort of an okay year. I say this as it sped past in a single blink, and added to that, I’m guilty of not having done too much! There has been the daily routine of work (I manage a shop), I attended several conferences, managed an exhibition, attended meetings, and travelled to London. The year ended with the family coming together for Xmas and the New Year, and each moment was a treasure which I thoroughly enjoyed (my kids study abroad). But I feel as though I should have done more. So now that 2015 has begun, I’ve decided that I want to learn something, not something that will contribute to my work, but to me.

Of recent I’ve noticed how my mind likes to do its own thing. By that I mean, it likes to chat endlessly. It likes to tell me what I can’t do, what to worry or whine about; it leads me to believe that I can experience my past, which has long since gone, or experience the future, which is yet to be. It seems to feel threatened by the present and so far, has managed to convince me that happiness is obtainable, even though I know it’s a fleeting experience. It fights the belief, ‘nothing is ever permanent’ and therefore keeps you stuck in the notion that ‘things remain the same’. I get some relief when I’m with family/friends or at church.

It is said that ‘a mind can be a humble servant or a dangerous master’. It is how you use it that will decide which direction it will take. If you don’t ‘direct’ it, you are just left confused and unfocused. There is a lot of information on courses where you can learn to study the mind such as Psychology or NLP; or you can learn to quieten it with Mindfulness Meditation. My rule for this New Year is that besides improving my health, I have to look after my mind. Has anyone taken a course in Mindfulness or NLP? How did you find it? If you live in London, which courses did you take and where? I would love to know.

If 2014 was a great year for you, then brilliant. But if it wasn’t, then I hope, for you and I, the New Year brings us what we want and surpasses our expectations.

As stated in other blogs I was born in London of West Indian parentage. I now live in Nigeria and have done so for a number of years. When I lived in London, amongst friends and family members, I would make jokes and people would laugh. This did not make me a stand-up comedian but I knew I had a quick wit, a sense of humour and a sense of timing, and was able to make a joke out of a situation. I guess as a result of living in the UK and being exposed to the humour that I saw daily on TV, especially the ‘put down’ variety, was something I had gotten used to and therefore did not question. I felt it was normal to use this same kind of humour when making jokes. But when I got to Nigeria I realised my humour was not seen as funny. My ‘jokes’ were considered acidic and unkind. I eventually got the message when I was at a function; getting carried away telling one anecdote after the other, when the couple at my table got up and sat elsewhere. On another occasion, someone who was a friend actually stopped talking to me because she couldn’t stand my ‘jokes’. I was surprised.

I had to take two steps back and realise that ‘humour’ can be a one sided affair. After all, how can a joke be funny and inclusive if people did not get it? And really, I should know better, that is, not getting the joke or more to the point, when a joke is mocking me. If I dig into my past and relive some of those toe-cringing experiences, it would be similar to going to a theatre house, where I am the only black person seated amongst a white audience, and on walks the comedian say, Jim Davidson or Bernard Manning, where a large chunk of their material is making jokes about black people etc. I laugh, but with some element of shame at the fact that I am the butt of their jokes! The rest of the audience is satisfied that I ‘see’ the joke but when everything comes to an end and I’m left with my thoughts; I feel humiliated, demeaned, disarmed and powerless followed by the emotion of anger. I’m not, as I said, a comedian nor satirist; I don’t have key contacts or belong to any institutions that can support or protect me. Of course, I can take refuge with family and friends, who gives me the needed support but at the end of the day, they are just as disarmed and powerless as I am.

To make it worse, when I complain to my white friends, they fob me off as suffering from the classic case of ‘chip on my shoulder’ syndrome. So therein my resentment remains firm, simmering and waiting until a time comes when I can express myself. I understand that the role of humour is to let off steam, release tension. Laughing at something that deep down is found to be threatening, humour can be the antidote that removes the sting out the bite. For those who find the whole business about immigrants/immigration threatening, humour perhaps, can give them some space between what they feel and the reality of the situation.

What happened in Paris is absolutely tragic. I feel for the journalists who were killed in the bombing and my sympathies goes out to their loved ones. My understanding is that the magazine where the journalists worked – Charlie Hebdo – was satirical in its content and was well renowned throughout the country. But I wonder if they went too far, in putting out their brand of humour? Yes, freedom of speech is at the heart of democracy, but upon seeing a few of the cartoons I can understand why Muslims would be offended. However, I’m relieved that they found it abhorrent that extreme violence was used as a way of ‘correcting’ the problem. They realise, as we all realise, that no amount of provocation can ever warrant or justify violence.

I implore France to do what is right and not allow the histrionics of the Far Right to dictate the fate of the country and not see what has happened as a ‘clash of civilizations’. The New Year has just begun, but it is clear we are living in dangerous times, (as I write this, a bomb exploded killing a number of people in Baga, North East of Nigeria) we should all court tolerance and strive towards unity, if we hope to make it!

The new BMW i8 vehicle was launched in August, this year. Whilst I was in London the ad was shown regularly on certain channels. It impressed me. I thought, why should this poetry be used on a vehicle when it can be rearranged and used to uplift us humans, in a positive way?

Perhaps it had something to do with the way the ad was presented – slick, stylish and smooth, with a different narrator each time you saw the ad. The narrators, two male and one female were used but what they had to say was the same. But it was convincing, convincing enough to believe that a car can possess such beauty and invoke such poetry. and this is how it went:-

I am the impossible. I am the idea, too bold to be chained. Too powerful to be tamed. I am the big bang. I’m changing the game for all you worriers, doubters, preventers. I am the idea that has to be born, the revolution that has to be won, the story that has just begun. I am unstoppable: a rocket, a cannonball; a carbon fibre body lighter than wind, stronger than storm. I am born electric. I’m sheer energy, the force of tomorrow. I am possible I am – i8

But this is my take on the ad which I’ve titled The New Me

I am the impossible. I am and have always been, the created, too bold to be chained.
I am changing the game of those of you who have doubted, prevented and decided who I am, refused who I was.
I am – that has to be born, that has just begun.
I am unstoppable
I am born
I’m sheer energy, the force of tomorrow
I am possible
I am – God created.

Are there any ads you’ve seen where you are not interested in the product, but just the words? Then let me know!

Wow! I’m getting so many ‘reads’ on my Experiences: Moving to Scotland which I wrote some years ago. I guess readers are not just visiting because of the referendum that is taking place as I write this but I’ve received a number of visits as readers (in the past and present) are keen to see if my article is about the business of meeting black women in Scotland. A dating site? hmm! I don’t think so! But I’m sure as they read the blog or when they have finished reading, they realise that my article has nothing do with ‘dating’ but just as the title of my site states, it’s about my experiences of life, generally. The blog is about the time when my family and I lived in Cambuslang in South Lanarkshire, just outside Glasgow.

We didn’t spend a long time there as I had a longing for London. However, I was impressed with how friendly the Scots were and the embarrassing thing was I went there with the notion of not expecting anything, dare I say, of a standard ie., at the back of my mind, Glasgow would look ‘inferior’ to London but it did not. Living there was a great experience but it still did not match my London.

And while talking about Scotland, I wish them all the best, especially, if it’s a Yes. If it’s No, then I guess Alex Salmond has to go back to drawing board because I don’t believe he will give up.

I just learnt that Nadine Gordimer passed away yesterday. I admired her writing. Her book My Son’s Story was my introduction to South African literature. I was of the opinion that white writers could not write about black people and their experiences. But Gordimer proved me wrong. Whenever I read her novels, I’m not only overwhelmed by the accuracy in the depiction of her characters, but the truth as she sees it, no matter how cold it is! For those who supported Apartheid, her books could not have made comfortable reading. But I am happy for her presence and her immense contribution towards ending the struggle and that her soul should rest among all those other great souls who have recently passed.

In 2007 I wrote a review of Gordimer’s biography titled No Cold Kitchen. I know the author (Robert Suresh Roberts) received a lot of criticism as people were offended by it. But I do not believe that it was bad; I thought it fair and that it rightly praised Gordimer for her contribution to the removal of Apartheid in South Africa.

Just last year I bought her latest book Mom & Me & Mom. I put it away in my library telling myself that at some point I will read it. January of this year I went through my growing number of books yet to read and saw this book and decided to read. It was simple, beautiful yet deep; it touched me as it made me to stop and pause ever so often to reflect on my relationship with my own fractious mother. In fact, if I’m honest, I found it shaming as it showed how Maya, over time, learnt to understand and forgive the shortcomings of her mother, Vivian Baxter. It made me realize I have a lot of work to do and that as I get older, I must make sure I tie up all those loose ends. I believe Maya successfully did this.

I was introduced to Maya not through her books, but I was somehow coerced to listen to her, each time she spoke. She had this incredible facility to speak, so much so it stopped me dead in my tracks when she spoke. When I lived in London, I would see her on TV programs such as The Michael Parkinson Show or on Channel 4 News when she was interviewed by the presenter Jon Snow, and countless other shows I saw her in. She was profound, and had this warm, compelling, charm about her. Not only did she possess wisdom but had control over the English language – she could use it to say precisely what she wanted it to say. In my mind, she was a sort of alternative Margaret Thatcher where in place of the cold politics was a spirituality; and just like Thatcher, Maya’s sentences would flow without the intrusion of hmm’s or aah’s, her beliefs would be stated in not too many breaths; and with her naturally deep voice, she spoke with a quiet authority giving the impression that despite talking to the audience, she was speaking to you, directly. This is a weird thing to say, but I always felt she sounded as though she was speaking on behalf of God, that she was the chosen one, sent on a mission or an assignment to complete. There was no one like her.

I’d like to think that God feels she has successfully completed this assignment and she is now in His warm embrace. I ask God to rest her gentle soul and give her family the strength and support they will need in this time.

there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you… Maya Angelou

Well, in the next 5 hours it will be finally over. I cannot believe how this year has travelled so quickly. I’ve not done all that I wanted but as my teachers used to say, I could have done better. There have been key moments as I’m reminded by my diary and journal – being more and more spiritually connected; reading books by Debbie Ford, Dr. Eben Alexander, Jerry and Esther Hicks (Ask and it is Given) have had a profound effect me that I know there is no turning back. There is seems to be an urgency to write more, especially about how I feel and what I want.

Resolutions I’ve not always stuck to but –

I look forward to reading a lot more spiritual books

to learn about Physics;

to most definitely lose weight;

determined to make progress with my family, with friends, with everything!

And that all in all, that the New Year will simply be great. Likewise to every one of you out there, I wish you a peaceful, prosperous New Year!

Mr Mandela, sadly, you have now left us. I want to thank you for all you have done for your people; for avoiding a civil war and allowing peace to reign. But I also know that if it were not for you, I would not have been allowed, as a black woman, to emigrate to South Africa in 1994. I had the pleasure of living in your beautiful country for two years, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

You will be missed and you will never be forgotten. Go and enjoy your well deserved rest and may the Almighty Father bless your wonderful soul.

When I was in London, I went to see my life coach, Pat. She has clairvoyant abilities but does not believe in telling you the future, so to speak; as she believes that by integrating her coaching methods and intuition, that it is a more practical way of helping you with your problems.

We chatted about our families and she talked about how she’d successfully landed a role in a production in the West End, plus she had written a play that was seriously being considered by one of the popular TV networks. As Pat talked, I glanced over to her loaded bookshelf and noticed a particular book. It was the only one that was standing with its back against the shelf and title in full view, whilst the other books lay flat, leaving you to wonder what their stories were. The other thing was its colour. It was a striking, deep purple and its title was in a large font dressed in silver. It said: Ask and it is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks. My attention was taken by Pat who suddenly stopped talking about herself and began to ask me about my problems.

‘You know…’ I said to her, ‘…it’s the same ole, same ole. Am I on track, what is my purpose?’

‘You know I don’t tell fortunes…’ Pat scolded politely, ‘…but all you have to do is ask! Ask for what is your purpose. Ask if you are on track. Your problem is that you don’t ask!’ She said with emphasis.

‘Ask? But I do!’ I responded, hoping that it didn’t seem like we were having an argument. ‘I meditate and pray constantly and with that I ask but…I don’t know.’

She lowered her head in thought then looked up at me. ‘Have you heard of synchronicity?’

‘Synchrowhat?’ I gushed. Something to do with swimming I thought but did not dare say it.

Pat smiled and gave me an explanation. She ended by saying that I should believe when I pray and mentally state some affirmations towards the end of my meditation. My time was up but as I left, she told me not to worry. It will all work out. Hmm, I thought.

About an hour later in another part of London, I was in a bookshop, looking for a book on Physics for my daughter. Walking towards where the science books were kept, I abruptly stopped as there was a book staring right at me from the spiritual section titled Ask and it is Given. I went and picked up a copy, opened to the intro, read two or three paragraphs and said yes, I must get this!

I’m half way through the book and clearly, I understand synchronicity and realize this is how the Almighty/the Universe communicates. Synchronicity is when either, ‘a single event or chain of events’ produces a ‘meaningful coincidence’. An example of this is early this year, I found myself constantly thinking about an old school friend, someone I used to move around with in the early 90s. A month later, as I was driving to the supermarket, I spotted her ex-boyfriend, who also I had not seen in a while. I quickly stopped and parked the car, and chased after him. Wheezing out of breath when I caught up, he instantly recognized me, stretched out his arms and gave me a hug. About ten minutes into our conversation, I asked him about our mutual friend. He removed his mobile from his back pocket, scrolled through the names and when he had found her number, he gave it to me. That evening I called her and we agreed to meet at her house the next weekend.

You ‘ask’ for something and you receive answers in a manner that you do not expect. It could be in the form of an ad in a magazine, or the ad on a bus, a bill board or a comment from an actor in a movie, a sentence in an article or a conclusion in a documentary. Likewise, seeing the book on Pat’s shelf and then seeing it again in the bookshop, it’s clear that this book ‘came’ to me, making me to realize that I will find my answers there.

Now, for those of you who read my piece on Debbie Ford’s book (The Dark Side of the Light Chasers) will say I’ve spoken about this before, so what’s the big deal? But please, spare me. How was I to know that this was synchronicity? The point is, I’m learning. Again within a few chapters I’ve realised that ‘asking’ is not only just believing or placing a pair of hands together to pray. But I have to ‘desire’ it, believe that I’ve already received it and to act as if ‘it’ is already in my life. In the case of my long-lost friend, my thinking or constant thoughts of her, wanting to see her played a part in me actually reuniting with her.

Negativity does not play any part in this. In fact, if I ‘desire’ something but in the next second fill my head with a lot of doubt by saying ‘Nah! It’s not for me. I can’t have this’ then the thing is now cancelled as instead of being eager for ‘it’, I’m asking for the lack of it, which is exactly what I’ll will receive, if you get my meaning. If you want to know more about this, then please get yourself a copy of this book to get a deep simplified explanation.

As I said, I’m halfway through. The first part I’m reading gives a thorough explanation of how it works. Some reviewers complain that there is a lot of repetition. Perhaps there is. But how I look at it is that sometimes to make a point loud and clear, you have to keep hammering it home. The second half, I’ve not looked at but it is composed of exercises which I can’t wait to do. I will keep you posted.

If you can imagine it, you can create it. If you dream it, you can become it.